Pinko + Snake Eyes = Pink Eye?

You've been waiting for it, folks, and it's finally here. The love story of two dear friends of mine; to protect them we'll call the young woman "Pinko" and the young man "Snake Eyes." It doesn't offer much protection, since that's what I call both of them in real life, but it's better than writing out their full names and phone numbers. (That information, however, is available upon request.)

I had long been waiting for Pinko to come from Oklahoma to Austin to visit me, and she finally made it down late on the first Friday of November with her friend (let's call her "Paula"), whom I had never met but liked immediately. Paula, Pinko, and I chatted for a bit before I whisked them away to the Spiderhouse, telling them that it was an essential part of the Austin experience, but really just needing an excuse to chain-smoke. They liked the atmosphere and the yummy vegan carrot cake (Pinko is a veggie girl), and we planned the next day's activities. They made it clear that they were planning on visiting the famed Sixth Street, and then they wanted to head over to Red River to see Li'l Cap'n Travis play at Room 710.

Now, before Pinko had even arrived, she had made inquiries about any hot male friends I might have available to get her laid while she was here. My first thought was Snake Eyes, of course, because he's an absolute cutie and had gone so long without getting laid that I was worried even the Suicide Girls wouldn't satisfy him much longer. When I was calling around to invite Austin friends out to join us downtown, I made sure to include Snake Eyes. I didn't actually expect anything to come of it, because in the past I haven't been much of a matchmaker, but it was worth a shot.

Little did I know what was in store, folks.

Snake Eyes arrived at the bar looking like the Austin semi-grungy hipster that he is, and as soon as he went to the bathroom, I whispered in Pinko's ear, "Well?"

"Oh, yeah! He's fucking hot!" she replied enthusiastically. Whoa! Could this actually work? I didn't have to worry much about his response to her, because if there is one thing Snake Eyes loves, it's boobs, and if there's one thing Pinko has in her love arsenal, it's a fabulous set of Dueling Banjos. Sure enough, he returned and confirmed in whispered conversation that she, too, was the Hotness. Let the games begin!

They flirted, he bought her a drink, Paula and I shared secret smiles. We walked down to Room 710 and chilled out for a while. Or rather, Paula and I kept drinking a shitload of beer while Snake Eyes and Pinko flirted. At this point, my world was quickly going out of focus, so it was hard to keep an eye on the two lovebirds, but I assumed they were doing well. I vaguely recall passing Snake Eyes on the way to the bathroom and asking how it was going, and he replied something like, "It's going okay, but I'm definitely ready to make out with Pinko." After another friend, Salty, showed up, we had three people to hang out and chat while Pinko and Snake Eyes got to know each other better.

The concert began. Maybe 20 minutes into it, Salty turns to me and says, "Don't look, but they're making out." I look immediately to my right, and indeed, two of my very dear friends who have known each other for an hour are making out in the middle of a crowded bar. We couldn't look away. Paula, Salty, and I kept trying to enjoy the show and some occasional conversation, but we just couldn't stop looking over to see if the two of them were still going at it. They were. A lot.

Finally, I suggested a cigarette, and both Paula and Salty jumped at the chance to avoid the awkward moment inside. When we returned, however, Pinko and Snake Eyes were GONE.

"Oh, my God," I said to Salty, "Do you think they're having sex in the bathroom?" (This was not the case, but I learned later that Snake Eyes had, in fact, suggested that very thing.)

We finally found them upstairs, going full force sitting up in a chair way in the back. This was not innocent kissing, dear friends; this was, much like the rhumba, a vertical expression of a horizontal wish. The three of us stood on the landing of the stairs so that we could still see the show while we took turns running up to watch them. I only paid for one show, but I got two.

The concert ended, but the happy couple didn't notice, so a bartender had to help them: "Break it up! The bar's closed." They came down the stairs looking sheepish, and we all left the bar as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Now things got tricky. I pulled Pinko aside and asked her if she wanted to go home with Snake Eyes when Salty drove him home, and she said no. I didn't know if that meant, "No, I don't want to have sex with Snake Eyes," or if it meant, "I want to have sex with Snake Eyes, but not at his place." The five of us were standing around in front of the bar, uncomfortable and tense about what the next move would be. Finally, we decided to go to Starseed's, which is a greasy spoon near campus where people go to replenish their B-vitamins after a night of drinking. I rode with Salty and sent Snake Eyes and Pinko in Paula's car, which gave Salty and me a chance to bitch about how we were both tired, but we had to stay awake while the two lovebirds figured out how and if they were going to get into each other's pants.

Starseed's was a blast, partly because Salty and I decided we were going to be the life of the party to soothe over any tension, sexual or otherwise, that might occur because of the illicit liaison between Mr. and Mrs. Kissy-face. Salty fixed one problem for us by leaving without taking Snake Eyes home, which gave me a chance to ask him if he wanted to sleep at my place or go home. He chose my place, and Paula drove us home, where she immediately fell asleep on my papasan chair. I sat on the loveseat, and Pinko and Snake Eyes cuddled on the couch. The Big Lebowski was playing, but no one was really watching it. I gave up and told the cuddle-bugs that they could have the bed, and they didn't object. Like a good hostess, I went into the room, straightened out the blankets, and left two condoms on the night table.

They disappeared into my room, and I fell down on the blankets I had made for myself on the floor, trying to fall asleep as quickly as possible. I did this for two reasons: a) I didn't want to hear them having sex, and b) even if I didn't hear them, I didn't really want to think about two people having sex on my bed when one of them wasn't me. Fortunately, I fell asleep very quickly, and I never had to experience those moments we've all experienced at one time or another in which you wonder every few seconds: "Was that a sex noise?"

The next morning, Pinko woke up rosy, and the three girls hung out until I had to wake up Snake Eyes to go out to lunch with us. Seeing him naked under MY sheet in MY bed was a little bit disturbing, and I definitely noticed the condoms were gone from the night table. Snake Eyes smiled at me with half-shut eyes and mumbled, "I owe you one, Muskrat." It sounded good at the time, but now I have to wonder what exactly it is he owes me, and how he might go about paying off the debt. Does he have to provide me with one of his friends to sleep with? Because I've met his friends, and...no.

Now for the weird part: the entire evening was a series of incredible coincidences all revolving around the number 5. We were sure this proved that fate had brought Pinko and Snake Eyes together.

It was November 5th when they met.

Year: 2005.

By the time they got around to the sex early in the morning, it was 5:00 am.

They had both only slept with four people in their lives, and this brought them up to 5 each.

There were 5 of us in the group that night.

We (the girls) had gone to 5 restaurants over the weekend.

Whoa! Pretty crazy, huh?

The next morning, I put on my baseball jersey with the number "5" on the front and asked Pinko if she would like to borrow it. She let me know at that point that she hated me. Some gratitude for all my hospitality, huh?

Follow up: I found one of the empty condom packages on the floor underneath my bed. At a fancy dinner the other night with several people I didn't even know, I walked right up to the table, threw the package in front of Snake Eyes, and said, "Here, you left this in my room." That's what happenes when you litter, folks.

The moral of the story? Come visit me in Austin, and I'll get you laid. Who needs more motivation than that?